


Never More

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Crossover, Horror, Inspired by Real Events, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-25
Updated: 2003-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Two young men at PIFA start a shooting. Like what happened at Columbine, but with the school being PIFA instead. Justin is held hostage. Look inside for notes. This story is set after 314. Brian got his job back, and Justin's off suspension.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Notes: I don't know what possessed me to write something like this. I remember reading about what happened a couple years ago, at Columbine, and pushing it away, forgetting about it. But now for some reason it's come back to haunt me and it's been haunting me for some time now, so I've finally decided to get my feelings and things down on paper. Or computer, whichever way you want to look at it. There will be two endings to this; and one moral. One sad ending, if I can bring myself to write it without sobbing all over the keyboard, and one happy, which I'll probably be sobbing anyway with happiness. I'm such a twat, sometimes.

A little bit about what happened : The Columbine High School Shooting was in Littleton, Colorado, on 20 April 1999, around 11:30 A.M. Two young men, Eric Harris, 18, and Dylan Klebold, 17, killed twelve students and one science teacher. Later, they used their guns on themselves in the library. The total death count accumulated to fifteen.

I am well aware of the fact that neither Harris, nor Klebold kept anyone hostage, but to make my story more...compelling, say you, more elongated than a simple couple paragraphs, and more emotional, I'm going to have him, Justin, and a couple others, hostages. The death's will not be extremely gory, but to catch the total seriousness and helplessness of the situation, I'm going to describe some of the sites and such.

This story is dedicated to the families whose loved ones will never be back in their arms again, but will continue to live in their hearts forever.

* * *

9:20 A.M. 

"Want a ride after school?" Brian asked, looking out the window the entire time, refusing to look at the blonde next to him.  
"Don't think that'll make up for what you said," Justin said angrily and flung the door open. He started to get out when Brian grabbed his sleeve.  
"Don't fucking act like a twat all the time. Don't act so fucking stupid," He let go of his sleeve and Justin looked at him incredulously.

Justin swallowed the hurt and lurched out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and hurriedly walking up to the entrance of his sanctuary away from Brian.

Brian watched him until he disappeared inside the building before driving toward work. He didn't pay any attention to the two black-clad forms wandering inside with large suitcases.

\------------------------ 

11:40 P.M. 

Cynthia burst inside his office at noon, looking flushed and terrified.

"What?" Brian asked irritably, until he got a look at his assistants face.  
"What happened?" He stood up.

Cynthia looked like she was about to cry, but gathered all of her strength to say two words that shattered Brian's world.  
"PIFA. Shooting," 

Cynthia ran out of his office toward the stairs with Brian running after her.

\------------------------ 

11:25 A.M. 

Justin sighed as he sat in his Renaissance Art class at 11:25. He'd hardly got any sleep last night, the couch was so uncomfortable, and his back hurt. He hated it when Brian and him fought, but if he thought that he was going to say 'I'm sorry' first, he was crazy.

Justin felt a yawn coming on, but before his mouth could even open, screams filled the hallway.

\------------------------ 

Noon 

Brian curved around another car, ignoring the honking he received. Cynthia was in the seat next to him, hanging on for dear life with a phone pressed against her ear, trying to calm Deb down.

Debbie was the only one that Brian had been able to get a hold of, the rest he'd just left messages on their cells. When he tried to tell Debbie what was happening, she started shrieking about rescuing her sunshine, but he was already on his way there, so he told her to stay where she was and that he would tell her when Justin got back home, safe and sound. And he was getting back safe and sound, damnit. He swallowed hard, and swerved again, missing the other car within an inch. He was five minutes away from the college.

Brian heard noise in the background, sounding a little like Cynthia speaking rapidly, but all his mind saw was yesterday, how him and Justin had had that horrible argument the day before. Over a can of fucking spaghetti. Brian didn't want to eat it, and somehow that evolved into an all out yelling fight. Justin had slept on the couch that night, and there'd been no conversation in the morning, except when Justin started to get out of the car.

 

_'Don't act so fucking stupid,'_ Brian bit his lip to keep from crying. He wasn't some stupid twat. Tears sprang to his eyes when he thought that Justin could...be taken from him. But this time permanently. No physical therapy or internship could bring him back. And the last thing he said to him was calling him stupid. He felt tears began to glide down his face, and he angrily pushed them away. He wouldn't let that be the last thing that he said to him. He felt Cynthia's hand grab onto his, and he gave her one of his smallest smiles.

He'd get his baby back. He hoped.

\------------------------ 

11:26 P.M. 

Guns ricocheting off the walls caused everybody to stand up abruptly, the professor to quit his lecture and lots of people to start screaming along with the shrieks from outside the door. The door to the room suddenly burst in and one man in a mask entered carrying an M16. People ducked down on the floor, and the masked man began shooting. Justin jerked away, and began running toward the other door. He felt hands grab his arms and he screamed, kicked away from the intruder.

"Shut up!" An anonymous voice yelled, and everything went black.

\------------------------ 

12:10 P.M. 

Brian pulled the car into park and jumped out, already hurrying toward the school where shots could be heard even outside the building.

A police officer stopped him before he could get inside, and he moved to knock him right on his ass so that he could get through, when Cynthia grabbed, and pulled him away, literally.

"You don't want to be escorted off of the premise, would you?" Cynthia's shaky voice asked him.

Brian didn't answer, just continued to look at the school where a massacre was being held and he was powerless to stop it.

\------------------------ 

11:45 P.M. 

Death.

If asked the first thing that Justin smelt when he began to awaken, it was death.

People say you can't smell death; he could. It smelt like blood and flesh and slightly like used bullets, that metallic, sort of gun powdery smell. It all accumulated to the smell of death. The deep, overbearing, stench of already rotting bodies. You couldn't smell the horrid smell of them yet, not the decaying flesh; but what had been done, the sudden taking of lives, the forcing of the decision of how long they'd live out their lives. He smelt it all. He smelt death.

Justin opened his eyes and tried to ignore the splitting pain he felt in his head. He reached up, hesitantly, wavering, but he eventually touched his forehead.

He felt blood.

Warm, red, coppery, blood.

He heard a whimper over toward his right, and when his eyes opened a crack, he saw one other people sitting next to him in the darkened library where they sat, and another in one of the bad guys' arms across from him.

One was a female, the other a male, both freshman. They were white, and the one against one of the black-clad men, was female and had long blonde hair, he suspected, even though large clumps of it was thoroughly tangled with the huge red mass of thick blood clumping it together. Her eyes were wide chestnuts, seemingly gazing at something he wasn't looking at, or couldn't look at. The male had black hair with what had to be a gun wound on his tricep. His right hand was pressing against it, trying to stop the bleeding. His face was whiter than normal, suggesting that he'd already lost quite a bit of blood for him to already be that pale. Tear stained cheeks were identical, with the exception of mascara and some unidentifiable eye shadow smeared across the females face. They both shared similar looks; pain and fear. He remembered that look. He'd had one after the bashing.

He slowly turned his head to look at what was in front of him. Two men were sitting at the tables, seemingly lazing back. The one with the female in his arms was holding a 9MM to her head, blanketing his body with her trembling one. The other one was already getting up, beginning to walk out of the closed door that led the way out of the library.

"Where are you going?" The one still sitting down asked him. He recognized the voice as the one that he knocked him out.   
"To see if there's anyone else we're forgetting. Maybe there's someone else who wants to join the party." He looked straight at Justin and grinned sadistically. 

Thankfully, before he could concentrate more, the soft blackness took him under her wing again, and he was again floating in the wonderful peace.

\------------------------ 

12:20 P.M. 

"Justin!" Brian heard shrieked behind him. He jerked around and came face to face with a watery-eyed Jennifer.  
"Mrs. T-"  
"JUSTIN!" She screamed and started running for the school.

Before she got to the now yellowed off area, he grabbed her around her waist.

The mother began kicking and screaming, demanding to see her son.

"Jennifer, it's Brian, calm down, he's going to be okay," Oh please, God, let him be okay, "The good police men are in there getting him out, but they're not going to be able to focus on that with you acting like a crazy woman out here," He was glad his voice cracked only over half the words.

Jennifer stopped struggling and turned around, started sobbing into his Armani clad chest. He enveloped her in his arms and never thought once about what she was doing to the suit that he had just bought yesterday.

\------------------------ 

12:25 P.M. 

Justin felt someone calling him, but he couldn't tell who it was. He felt himself start to awaken more, but he tried to stay away from real life, tried to keep a hold of the softness of the blackness where he didn't have to worry about anything.

"Police! Come out with your hands on your head,"

Justin chuckled and winced as the pain in his head intensified. The cops words sounded right off of a movie.

Suddenly, he was being hoisted up and held against a semi-warm body. He felt cold metal being pressed against his temple and felt is meshing with the blood already there. He opened his eyes and stared up into dead brown eyes, the bad persons eyes, looking down at him.

Justin groaned and looked around. The boy and girl that he'd seen were now lying down in a stream of blood. What was probably the female was laying half on top of the boys back, with her head twisted at an odd angle. Looking more closely at her face, it looked like her nose had been broken, if you could call the bloody appendage a nose. He felt bile start to reach out it's ugly hand and strangle his throat, wanting to rip the bile from his stomach. He swallowed the putrid liquid and looked at the mass of bodies. What had to be the guy, his left arm was seemingly ripped off with a chunk of bloody tissue and bone left looking sinister, right out of a horror movie.

He couldn't contain his disgust anymore, and his mouth opened as puke erupted from within him. The man in the mask made a sound of surprise and disgust, before pushing Justin over to retch without assistance.

Justin shakily wiped the puke from his mouth and wiped it on his pants. He slowly sat up. He heard a couple peoples feet running across the hallways, seeming to come toward them.

Eric started to panic, and he quickly snatched up the blonde boy. He heard him groan and prayed that Dylan would be back quickly. He placed the gun against his temple as he heard the feet coming closer...

\------------------------ 

12:35 P.M. 

Brian couldn't feel his hand anymore. Jennifer was squeezing it so tight, he was sure that she'd broken some of his knuckles. He looked down at his white hand for a second, before his gaze quickly shot up toward the school. Police were patrolling around the yellow line, making sure no-one was going to cross it.

Families were already there, huddling, some crying softly and some wailing at the tops of their lungs. There weren't that many families, but he figured that some kids must be going here out of state.

Reporters were talking semi-hurriedly into the microphone, and he noticed a couple taking breaks between their words, and they'd have to wipe a tear that had fallen, before quickly trying to regain control of their emotions. He didn't know reporters could have feelings, but obviously, he was wrong. 

Suddenly, shots rang out again inside the building, and he heard two different screams. One he didn't know and--Justin's scream.

Brian broke away from the hand that was trying to stay grounded and keep himself grounded, as he let go of Cynthia's as well. He hadn't known that he was holding her hand. He ran across the lawn and tried to get passed the yellow tape, but the cop was pushing him back.

"Sir, you've got to stay behind the yellow line,"  
"Fuck that, I heard Justin in there, what the fuck is going on?!"  
"Sir, everything's going to be okay, just calm down--"

Brian charged at the cop and heard him grunt before dropping onto the ground. He heard photographs already clicking, but he didn't care.

Brian ran into the building.

\------------------------ 

12:27 P.M. 

"Freeze!"

Justin froze at the voice and looked up. From what he could see, there were four cops, and he thought he saw a couple hiding behind the doorway.

The man holding him to him froze, but quickly got a hold of himself. He pressed the gun painfully hard against the side of his already damaged head and he cried out.

The man didn't pull the gun away, but he stopped pressing.

"Put the gun down and let the boy go," A deep voice told the guy. The cop's hand was on a 9MM, pointing toward the black-clad guy behind him.

"Go away. Don't make me shoot him!"

Justin heard a shriek and turned around. He saw a bloodied girl held tight against the other man before shots were heard. Justin screamed.

\------------------------ 

12:36 P.M. 

Brian ran inside the building, and smelt the blood before he saw any. He tried to grab a hold of his sensibility and ran toward where he thought the screams were.

As he turned around a corridor, he slipped and almost fell, but tried to grab onto the wall. He steadied himself and saw what he had slipped on.

Blood.

Brian covered his mouth with the hand that was held against the wall.

He felt wetness touch his mouth and he jerked his hand away.

He saw blood on his hand.

Brian started screaming.

\------------------------ 

12:36 P.M. 

Justin squeezed his eyes shut as he saw the girl's body being jerked with bullets.

"STOP!" One of the officers said. The rest of them stopped.

Justin kept his eyes shut tight until he heard a familiar voice start screaming.

"BRIAN!" Justin screamed and tried to jerk away from the arm holding him. He didn't care about the gun against his forehead, he just wanted to make sure that the other guy hadn't gotten Brian. When the female had gotten inside, the cops had stupidly fired into her. They saw the guy behind her, and they aimed for him, but he moved before they're fingers pressed the trigger. He jerked away and left her standing there, getting fed bullets. The guy had ran out where he had originally entered, and two of the cops had run after him, trying to follow him.

"Shut up!" The man shrieked into his ear.

Justin jerked away from the man and started flailing about, trying to run to his lover.

"BRIAN!" He screamed when he saw him in front of him, behind the doorway, behind the cops. He started limping toward him until he heard a shot ringing out behind him.

Justin fell.


	2. Never More

Brian closed his eyes, shutting off his view from the ceiling of his loft. He inhaled a shaky breath as fresh tears began to trail their ways down his already tear-stained face. He reached over blindly toward the left side of the bed. He grabbed Justin's pillow and cuddled it to him, inhaling his scent, burying his face in it to try and quiet the sobs that wracked his body.

\------------------------ 

After everything at the school had died down, the police had found the body of the other boy, the one that Justin hadn't been with. Brian found out that his name was Dylan Klebold, and he'd been a freshman. Dylan and the other one, Eric Harris, had killed themselves. They both had shot themselves. Eric had shot at Justin, and took the gun to his head, right afterwards. The total death count was fifteen people.

The sun was hiding behind gray clouds, and everyone was there; Ted, Emmett, Ben, Michael, Jennifer, Molly, Debbie, Vic, Mel, Linds, and their son, even Craig had come. Brian had come too, but had only stayed to see how everything had looked. Then he returned to his loft.

The funeral was beautiful.

Justin would have loved it.

But you can't attend your own funeral.

\------------------------ 

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sun shining down from the sky. He was in the park, the one that Justin and he had spent time together, running around and playing with Gus. Sometimes Justin brought his sketchpad and he'd draw father and son together.

No more drawings now.

\------------------------ 

Brian looked inside the window of the Diner. He couldn't bring himself to go inside. Maybe someday, but now...

Brian sighed and tossed his cigarette onto the ground. He hoped that it had all been a dream, that nothing had happened, that everything was okay--but it wasn't. Justin wasn't there.

No more working now.

\------------------------ 

Brian shut the door to his jeep and looked out over the deserted parking garage, empty except for a few cars.

He carefully walked out onto the pavement, and froze. He looked down at the dark stain in the middle of the driveway. The stain that they couldn't get out. He sat down on the ground and with a shaky, hesitant hand, traced the old stain. He felt tears burn his vision but ignored them, and the honking car behind him.

No more dancing now.

\------------------------ 

Brian went inside Debbie's house and sat down on the couch. He didn't know what he was doing, but he felt he had to visit here, before he finished his trip and ended...

Brian squeezed his eyes shut and forced the strangled cry of pain down his throat. He'd cry later.

He looked out over the dining table.

No more dinners now.

\------------------------ 

Brian parked in front of the place that had robbed his love from him. He stared hatefully at the place. The police said that no one was allowed to go inside yet.

He never got to say, 'I didn't mean to tell you that your stupid. I think your brilliant.'

Brian looked out over the campus, his heart hammering in his chest.

No more drawings now.

\------------------------ 

Brian lay down on the soft blue duvet. He switched on the orange overhead light and closed his eyes, bathed in the soft orange glow.

He remembered making love on this bed. Taking Justin's virginity. Everything they did on this bed was making love, even if they were primal, clawing, biting, and sucking savagely it was still making love.

No more making love now.

\------------------------ 

Brian traced his hand idly over the can of spaghetti that had been left unopened. After their fight, Justin had left it there and ran out of the loft.

Brian never got to say, 'I'm sorry'.

No more spaghetti now.

\------------------------ 

Brian stood, shaking horribly, looking down at the newly put gravestone.

Justin Taylor  
1984-2003  
Beloved partner, son, and friend. Our only sunshine. 

Brian felt tears trail their way down his face.

No more Justin.

Brian wept.


End file.
